


Tumere

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Asphyxiation, Character Study, Credence's POV, Depression, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: A collection of drabbles from Credence's perspective. Exploration of his emotions, the Obscurus and maybe Mr. Graves. Obscurus as a metaphor for depression and anxiety.





	1. Breath

Credence is familiar with asphyxiation.

Because whenever Credence bursts into black fog, the sensation of losing his breath and physical life is so close and memorable. It’s painful and it hurts but it’s become so familiar because it happens far too many times. 

Gasping for air and constrictions in his chest, hands clawing at something tangible to get a good grip of, to keep him anchored. Splitting into the kinetic mass that is the Obscurus is a strange feeling, like that of nothingness, of being underwater, and at the same time feeling like he’s flying. The lack of a physical body always comes with the thought of breathlessness, and whenever he comes back to himself he’s always panting, always needing to get a good lungful that grounds him.

It’s become something comforting. He doesn’t understand it, but it’s the only thing that’s holding him down sometimes. He takes deep breaths, but it’s not enough. The ache in his chest burns and spreads as it demands oxygen, yet still not sufficient to sate his lungs. He’s both panicked but it’s familiar. He clings to every breath until he’s whole again.

When Graves fixes his large hands on Credence’s throat and squeezes, Credence cries. He cries from pain. He cries from the lack of breath. He cries from how wonderful and strange and recognizable the sensation is. He’s dizzy and gasping from the sting of Graves’ thumbs digging into his neck. It hurts and aches and it’s bringing so many thoughts and sensations in his mind and his body and Credence is choking, suffocating,  _ he’s dying. _

He almost blacks out when Graves lets up. He coughs and he’s taking deep lungfuls of air, his chest rising and falling fast and rapid and the sensation curls into his stomach and spreads through his body. Credence is shaking, and his cheeks are wet with tears, but Graves is there and he soothes the tremors and clears away his cries and lets Credence breathe and it feels like he’s alive once again.


	2. Affection

He’s not familiar with affection. He’s not intimate with the gesture called kisses. He’s seen it. He knows what they are, but he’s never felt it. Secretly, in a dirty, carnal place inside him, he wants to.

When Mr. Graves plants his hands on him, he whimpers. It’s a warmth that reaches too deep inside him. His skin is dry and pale and he knows he looks like a ghost, but he also knows how much the other man’s touch affects him. Brings him life. Brings blood to the surface, a flush to white canvas like spilled wine. He feels as heady, like Mr. Graves’ very touch intoxicates him. It’s addictive.

He never realized how cold he’s been, until the man’s fingers brushed over his skin. And when the kisses come - Credence almost weeps from the warmth, life and joy that brings him. Never felt so wanted, so rooted. His breath is lost and he feels like he’s high in the sky. He clutches to the older man, afraid he is just a dream and all these sensations are just products of his imagination, torturous illusions conjured by the devils of his mind.  

Mr Graves’ words are sin, Credence thinks, but it’s a sin that is too good to let go. He wonders what will become of him, when he dies and is brought before the angels for judgment. Is it really wrong to enjoy what is given, and brings him happiness? He knows his thoughts are blasphemy and he shudders, fearing damnation and hellfire. 

Yet with each passing day he yearns and wishes for the man and his magic. Not the sorcery that the man has displayed, but the power he has in bringing Credence to his knees, whimpering and weeping from his tenderness.


	3. Burden

There is a heaviness in his head, a fuzzy cloud that obscures his thoughts and slows his mind. He feels dazed and feverish, his eyes looking around wildly, unsure what he is even seeking. 

There is a lack of air in his lungs, his lips chapped and dry and bitten in worry. His fingers clench and curl, balling his hands into fists and he releases them, relaxes. 

He doesn't stay that way for long.

Ma’s words strike him as harsh as the whip of the belt, dig deeper into his flesh than the metal buckle, and burns the entirety of his soul. He wonders if hell is worse than this, or if he's already in it.

His cries and prayers continue to go unheard and unanswered, or deliberately ignored. Credence thinks he doesn't deserve help or goodness, and the darkness that's growing inside him continues to brew. 

With each passing day he feels the heaviness grow, a weight on his shoulders and neck, head bowed even lower. Anxiety robs him of his breath and thoughts, his eyes pinned to the floor instead of meeting grey faces that only sneer at him.

He holds his heart and body close but offers the flyers of Ma’s hate and wrath to the public, hoping that they’ll take it all away.

He wishes, sometimes, that there is some kindness out there that would offer him even a sliver of relief, to clear his head and wash away the blackness that swells deep in his mind and weighs heavy on his shoulders. 

When a strange, sharp man approaches, he thinks the grey and black in his eyes clears into blinding white. When the same man touches him, sure but gentle, no intent to hurt, he thinks he sees red, like a passionate flame burning bright.

The heaviness does not clear, but it eases up, swirling excitedly, spreads itself through his body, and he thinks for the first time in a while, he can lift his head and meet someone else’s gaze. 


	4. Darkness

When the Darkness takes him, Credence wishes it would be permanent. It is like sleep, but with it comes pain and a lack of air that squeezes at his chest and burns his eyes, and it feels like his head is splitting. But once that agony is over, all he feels is sweet numbing relief.

He doesn't think, he doesn't feel. It is like he's suspended in air, numb and floating, fleeting, and nothing matters. It is a much needed recluse, and while it was once terrifying to him, to be reduced into non-existence and succumbing into pain, now it is all he has, almost something for him to cling to.

Feeling too much emotion, all that hopelessness and despair, the burning sting of the welts and the piercing stab of words into his flesh - stopping it all is merciful. The Darkness feels like an embrace. He knows it is not a good thing, knows that the more he sinks into it, the more dependent he is on it, but escape is just far too sweet, like sugared water to a starving bee.

He wishes the Darkness would last longer, just take him whole and never let him go. What relief it would be if everything stopped and he would escape the torment forever. 

It becomes addictive, and he knows how to get to that state. More pain, more suffering, and the Darkness would come to take him away. He hates when Ma directs her wrath at him; each time he fears every word and every lash that rains down on him, but the Darkness is always there. It grabs his mind and wraps itself around him, shredding him into pieces and lets everything in him go. 

He longs for that day, when he just loses all grip of himself and be swallowed by the Darkness, just to feel no more. 

**Author's Note:**

> My art tumblr: [organicfleshink](http://organicfleshink.tumblr.com/)  
> You may have seen some of these posted on my personal tumblr: [thedestroyeroflife](http://thedestroyeroflife.tumblr.com/)


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